


Nachthexen

by Zorak23



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Historical Events, Awards, Awards for Acts of Service, BAMF Rolanda Hooch, BAMF Women, BAMF witches, Gen, HP International Witches Day 2021, History but make it magic, International Women's Day, Night Witches, Order of Merlin Awards (Harry Potter), Order of Merlin First Class, Quidditch but make it Wartime Merriment, Translations at the end, Women Do It Better, Women Get Things Done, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zorak23/pseuds/Zorak23
Summary: “They are a group of all women pilots. They work at night, dropping bombs on Nazis. The Germans call them ‘Night Witches’. They fly old, wooden aeroplanes, and cut engines when they are close to their target. Then they glide over and drop bombs. It is said that the only sounds to be heard are that of broomsticks on air.”“It is too bad they are not witches. They could fly on real brooms instead.”“They can’t. But we could.”“Where there is a woman, there is magic.”–Ntozake Shange
Comments: 30
Kudos: 16
Collections: International Witches Day





	Nachthexen

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [International_Witches_Day](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/International_Witches_Day) collection. 



> A/N: “Night Witches” was the nickname given to the all-female military aviators of the 588th Night Bomber Regiment, known later as the 46th "Taman" Guards Night Bomber Aviation Regiment, of the Soviet Air Forces. These women were absolutely amazing, and the list of their accomplishments in the story is factually correct. I have obviously twisted the history a bit to make the magical portions work, but they really did fly old, wooden airplanes, cut the engines, and drop bombs in the dead of night. I encourage you all to look them up—these badasses deserve to be remembered. 
> 
> As always, Black Lives Matter and trans rights are human rights. 
> 
> Beta love: FaeOrabel, who helped me sound like I know how to write. A special thank you to Elle_m2 for her help with the French language, and to LadyBlack3 for the Russian phrasing. Also thank you to LuxLouise, DeviantHufflepuff, and all the gentle-hotties in the IWD chat—your advice has been invaluable.

****

**25 August, 1943  
  
**

Rolanda Hooch pulled open the door of The Three Broomsticks and walked inside. Catching sight of the women she was in Hogsmeade to meet, she hurried over to their table with a wide grin on her face. 

“Ladies! So sorry I’m late; got held up at the castle. The Headmaster _really_ wants me to teach this year.”

“Zee season is once again cancelled; you might as well,” shrugged Adélaïde Delacour, her accent coming through more noticeably in her despair. 

They were a rather varied group, coming from such different backgrounds, but they all shared the same love: Quidditch. And even though the women played for different teams—and lived in different countries—they still met once a month. They might be living in the modern times, but Quidditch was still very much a ‘boy’s club’. Officially, all teams were supposed to be co-ed; still, very few women played at the professional level. Those that did stuck together, regardless of where they’d come from, or who they played for. 

“I’m gutted over it,” Rolanda said. “Still, I just don’t see myself teaching kids to fly. Can you imagine?” She glanced around the table, noting that there were only five other ladies present. “Where is everyone? I reckoned I’d be the last to arrive.”

“The other girls couldn’t make it,” Josy Krier replied sadly. “I myself barely made it out, and only because my brother works for the Muggle government. Luxembourg’s government is in exile; Germany invaded three years ago. Pierre was exiled to London last year, and I’ve been staying with him ever since. Most aren’t so lucky.”

“It’s horrifying that the Muggle war has impacted us so greatly,” Weronika Wronski added, taking a drink of her butterbeer. “Germany invaded Poland a year before Luxembourg. So many deaths…” Josy wrapped her arm around Weronika’s shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. 

Ekaterina Vulchanova made a noise of derision, scowling down at her glass. “The Muggles of my country have sided with Germany—with that Hitler. _Ebasi!_ He is just as bad as Grindelwald.”

Rolanda thanked the waitress who brought her drink to the table, then sipped it and sighed. Less than half of the QW had made it to their monthly get-together. Girls came and went as time and training allowed, but they generally had at least a dozen members attend each Quidditch Witches meeting. For them to be so few… was disheartening. 

“I wish there was a way to help, but the Statute wouldn’t let us.” Rolanda drained her glass and laid her head on Adélaïde’s shoulder. 

_“A huy li? Mne vse ravno, chto oni govoryat!”_

“English, darling. No one else speaks Russian.” Rolanda snickered across the table at the incensed woman, causing her to flush in embarrassment. 

“My sister,” Irina Karbut started slowly, then stopped to correct herself. “My _Muggle_ sister is regimental commander of 46th Guards Night Bomber Aviation Regiment of Soviet Air Forces.” She paused to grin slightly. “They are group of all women pilots. They work at night, dropping bombs on Nazis.” Here, she grinned fully. “The Germans call them ‘Night Witches’. They fly old, wooden aeroplanes, and cut engines when close to target. Then,” she made a sort of swooshing sound and gestured with her hand. “They glide over and drop bombs. It is said that only sounds to be heard are that of broomsticks on air.” The other girls were all looking at her with rapt attention. 

“You said they’re all women who do this?” Adélaïde demanded. 

Irina shrugged. _“Da._ Why else would they give them only old wooden planes? Yevdokia said sometimes engines will stall during flight. They climb out onto wings, mid-air, and restart them. Men would just give up and die. _Duraki.”_

“It is too bad they are not witches. They could fly on real brooms instead of having to mess with aeroplanes, wooden or otherwise,” Ekaterina commented. 

“They can’t, but we could,” Rolanda said softly. All eyes swung towards her, and she looked up at her friends. _“We_ could. We could _help.”_

 _“Ma caneton,_ we cannot. The Statute—”

“Oh, hang the bloody Statute, Ades!” Rolanda exclaimed. “The Muggle war has affected _us—_ has cancelled _Quidditch!_ Why shouldn’t we join the fight?”

“They took over my country, Josy’s country, Nika’s country. Your country. They drove us from our homes. Only Ro and Irina are still safe. Muggles did this. If they want to fight, I will fight,” Ekaterina said, looking directly at Adélaïde. “I would think you would, too, unless you are too conquered to do so.”

Adélaïde leapt to her feet. _“Ta gueule!_ I am a _citoyenne de la France Libre! Les putains de nazis, je leur pisse dessus!”_ She spat on the floor, face red and chest heaving. Rolanda patted her arm and gently pulled her back to her seat. 

“Kat didn’t mean it like that,” she chided, shooting Ekaterina a pointed glare. “Just that it’s surprising that you of all people are worried about the Statute. Remind me, which of us took their country’s Muggle president on a broomstick ride?”

“Not me,” Adélaïde replied with a sniff. “Le Président Lebrun is an old, retired man. I took his son for a ride.”

The girls snickered at her haughtiness, but quieted when another round of drinks was brought to the table. After the waitress had walked away, Rolanda asked quietly, “Is it really just us left?”

“Da,” replied Irina. “Lina Pinkus sent owl after she joined Lithuanian Liberation Army, but no one has heard from her in months. She and Astrid Johansen are both on ‘assumed missing or dead’ lists; Astrid’s name appeared there after Battles of Narvik in Norway.”

“I’ve had owls from both Aífe Byrne and Matilde Santos,” offered Josy. “Ireland’s coach has locked down all players. Anyone caught leaving the country will be cut from the team. Aífe is upset, but understands his position—Ireland is neutral so far in the war. Hopefully it won’t reach their shores. Matilde is… _lieweg mat roserei,_ um, worse than very angry with her father. He will not allow her to leave, and her family is very traditional.”

Weronika snorted in agreement. “Angry is an understatement, yes. The owl she sent me was full of such scathing insults I’m surprised it didn’t spontaneously turn into a howler, all on its own. Apparently she’s not allowed to move out of her parent’s home until she marries—and Matilde is adamant that she is married to Quidditch, and Quidditch only.”

“Olive Flint and Harriet Selwyn are with their families in New Zealand for the duration,” Adélaïde said. _“Père_ wanted us to go, but _Maman_ wouldn’t hear of it. My little brother is just starting Beauxbâtons next month.”

“What about the rest of the United Kingdom girls?” Ekaterina wanted to know, and everyone turned to look at Rolanda. 

“Clara Vance and Cerys Llewellyn are both out of contact, and it’s assumed they’re with their families under a Fidelius Charm,” she started, then paused to take a breath. “I’m sure you all remember what happened to Kathleen Frazer.”

Six glasses were solemnly and silently raised in memory of the fiery Scot, who was killed whilst leaving Diagon Alley during the London Blitz. 

“What about the Harpies?” Josy asked. 

“Their coach sent their entire team to Australia as soon as the conflict started,” Rolanda explained. “The Thundelarra Thunderers offered to house them, and the Wollongong Warriors are sharing their home pitch. The Moutohora Macaws also offered their support in getting the girls’ families there, and for the duration of war, they’ve effectively joined the Oceania Quidditch League.”

Irina smiled faintly. “Is good for them. I wish Heidelberg Harriers had gone to Australia, too.”

“Why, Rina?” asked Rolanda. 

“Because Nazis murdered Etta Volger last week. If her team had gone to Australia, she would still be here.”

Several girls gasped in horror at the news, but Ekaterina slammed her glass down on the table. _“Nyet!_ You will not wish Etta away like that! She was killed for smuggling Jews out of Germany—Jewish witches, Jewish wizards, and Jewish Muggles! You will not dishonor her by wishing that away!”

Irina burst into tears, and Weronika wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

“I didn’t mean like that!” she sobbed. “I just… I’m just so tired of everyone dying!”

“We know, Rina, we know,” murmured Weronika. “But this is why we should fight. So no more Quidditch Witches are killed in the Muggle’s war. So _no one_ else is killed. Can you get in contact with your sister? I would like to join these Night Witches.”

“You are not Russian,” Irina pointed out. “I do not think you can join Soviet Air Forces if you are not Russian.”

“Wait. What was her group called again?” Rolanda asked, voice tinged with excitement. “The forty-something regiment?”

 _“Da,_ 46th Guards Night Bomber Aviation Regiment.”

“So we’ll be our own group, then. Listen, the Hogwarts Express—the train that takes British children to school—loads from a magical platform in a Muggle train station. Platform 9¾. The Muggles have platforms 9 and 10, and we have platform 9¾. There used to be, what, sixteen of us, not counting the Harpies? And we’re down to six. Why can’t we be the 46⅜ something-something Regiment?”

 _“Da,_ I like this,” said Ekaterina, straightening in her seat. “This is a good idea. Rina, can you contact your sister, see if we can train with them? We fly better than wizards on brooms, we fly better than men in aeroplanes—but we might not fly better than women in aeroplanes. We need to train with soldiers. _Real_ soldiers, not men with fancy toys.”

“I can contact her tonight; we have mirrors for communication. But she will say yes. This, I know.”

Rolanda let out a whoop of excitement and raised her glass. “To the 46⅜ Regiment of Witches!”

Five other glasses rose to meet hers, and the ladies all grinned at each other as they clinked their drinks. It wasn’t Quidditch, but fighting for freedom was even more important. 

* * *

**25 August, 2003**

Rolanda Hooch pulled open the door of The Three Broomsticks and walked inside. Catching sight of the women she was in Hogsmeade to meet, she hurried over to their table with a wide grin on her face. 

“Ladies! So sorry I’m late; got held up at the castle. The Headmistress _really_ wants me to invite you all to visit the school.”

“You said this last time. Nothing changes with you,” laughed Ekaterina as she rose to hug her friend. “Sixty years, and still you are late.”

“We’re finally back in Scotland, Kat. I was just making sure you remembered the last time we were here!”

“It is finally your turn again,” she shrugged, then passed Rolanda off to the next woman for a hug. 

“We really should meet more often than once every ten years,” Josy said decisively. 

“Do we at least have time for drinks before your Headmistress expects us?” Weronika wanted to know. 

“We’ll bloody well _make_ time!” Rolanda exclaimed. “We can take a carriage up to the school, so it shan’t take too long. And I must apologise, ladies. She sprung this on me at the last moment. I believe she plans to have some sort of ridiculous ceremony to celebrate our anniversary.” Adélaïde and Irina giggled when Rolanda rolled her eyes at the Headmistress’ idea. 

“It is no matter; more people should grovel at our feet,” Adélaïde said, her haughtiness still as strong as ever. “We are _magnifique!”_

Soon, the witches were on their way to the castle, riding in a thestral-drawn carriage. When they drew close to the gate, Hagrid was waiting to escort them the rest of the way. Rolanda gave him a perplexed look; he’d changed from his normal, everyday clothes to something more… well, she wasn’t entirely sure _what_ the large man was wearing, but it was obvious he’d tried to present himself more formally. 

She kept flicking bewildered glances at the groundskeeper as they walked the rest of the way to the school. Josy quietly asked her if anything was wrong, but she shook her head in the negative. 

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she replied, but it was clear she was still confused. When they made it to the massive doors, Rolanda gaped in obvious shock. Argus Filch was wearing a suit. A _new_ suit. And he’d carefully combed his freshly-washed hair.

“Oh. Oh _no…”_ The ladies turned to Rolanda expectantly. She flung her arm towards the two men, one looking at her with reluctant appreciation, the other with undeniable awe. 

“How many?” she demanded. 

“A fair few,” admitted Hagrid, smiling sheepishly. “An’ before yeh ask, they’re in the Great Hall waiting fer yeh.”

“What is going on?” demanded Adélaïde. 

“Who is waiting for us?” Irina asked in confusion. 

Rolanda sighed. “Minerva has been badgering me for decades; she thinks the 46⅜ deserves more recognition than it ever received. I’ve told her over and over that the real heroes were the original 46th regiment—the Muggle women who risked far more than we ever did, flying in those wooden death traps that the men wouldn’t touch. I can only assume she’s gone ahead with her original plans. I’m afraid this won’t be the simple ceremony I’d warned you about…”

“As I said before, we are _magnifique._ If your Minerva wants to celebrate us, let them celebrate us.” Adélaïde threw her head back and squared her shoulders. _“Allons-y!”_

As if by magic, the doors to the Great Hall swung open, and the ladies walked through, two-by-two. The long tables had been removed, and a multitude of chairs were set up for the astonishing number of guests. Rolanda spotted several former students, many of whom had gone on to promising Quidditch careers; Adélaïde saw her great-niece waving in the crowd, along with the large red-headed family she’d married into. 

Weronika spied a number of what she assumed to be students surrounding her son; Josef was always popular with the younger set—they invariably wanted to know about the first time he performed his famous feint. Irina and Ekaterina were surprised to see many of their former classmates from Durmstrang, along with several famous Russian and Bulgarian faces in the crowd; and Josy gasped when she saw both of her brothers’ children and their families waving madly at her. 

As they made their way to the High Table, the Headmistress stood to her feet and began to clap. Soon, the entire Hall was filled with applause, and by the time the six had reached their place of honor, everyone in the room was on their feet. Minerva raised her hands and gestured for quiet as the ladies took their seats. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, friends and family, honored guests. We are gathered here today to correct a long-standing oversight. For decades, these six women have gone with no formal recognition for their heroic actions during the Second Great Muggle War. As we here in Britain have recently come through a war of our own, I’m sure you can all understand why I simply refused to let this travesty continue.” Minerva paused to look each of the honorees in the eye. “I firmly believe that everyone should know exactly how much you six contributed to the war effort. None of you were required to fight in the Muggle war, yet you did so regardless, and at great risk to yourselves. Given that this is the first time in sixty years you have all been in Scotland at the same time, it is time we had a chance to honor your accomplishments, and to give you our heartfelt thanks and gratitude.” 

The Headmistress had to pause for several moments as the crowd erupted in applause once again, and as she joined in, she noticed several of the women surreptitiously wiping away tears. With a quick smile for her long-time colleague and dear friend, she turned back to the crowd. 

“Without further ado, let me introduce you to the women of the 46⅜ Regiment of Witches! Ladies, as I call your name, please step forward as the Minister of Magic for each of your countries awards you with the highest honors for your bravery and valor in the face of extreme danger.”

Ekaterina gasped, and Josy grabbed Weronika’s arm in shock at her words. Irina and Adélaïde stared blankly at each other, trying to make sense of what was happening, and Rolanda quietly exclaimed, “Bloody hell!” 

Snickers were heard from those close enough to the High Table to catch the flying instructor’s words, and she blushed as she covered her mouth with her hand. Minerva mock-scowled at her, then introduced the first Minister. 

“May I present to you, Kingsley Shacklebolt, British Minister of Magic, here to award Rolanda Hooch with the Order of Merlin, first class, for her bravery during the Second Muggle World War.” 

Rolanda walked in front of the table to meet Kingsley, and he gently placed the medal around her neck. Stepping up to the podium, his deep voice boomed out over the crowd. 

“On this very date in 1943, Rolanda Hooch made the suggestion to these remarkable women that they should join the 46th Guards Night Bomber Aviation Regiment of Soviet Air Forces. That regiment was made up of Muggle women, and had garnered the nickname of Nachthexen. Madam Hooch decreed that actual witches could aid the Night Witches in their fight against the Nazis, and the 46⅜ Regiment of Witches was born.” He stopped and turned to look at Rolanda directly. “You also saved countless lives by placing a large section of the ghetto in Minsk under the Fidelius Charm. You have my personal thanks, along with the thanks of a grateful nation for your contribution to the war.” 

“Well, what else were we going to do?” Rolanda asked, a wide grin on her face. “They cancelled Quidditch!”

Amid the laughter that followed, Minerva introduced the next Minister and witch. After the _Présidente du monde Magique de France_ Eloïse Lefèvre awarded Adélaïde _L’ordre de l’enchanteresse, première classe,_ she spoke of her accomplishments during the war as well. 

“Madame Delacour successfully led over two thousand sorties during the war. Without her help, as well as the contributions of the other women present here today, the results of the Eastern Front of the Second Muggle World War could have gone very differently. Madame Delacour is still known for her abilities as a Chaser, and it was these skills that served her so well during her missions—it is said that she could land a Muggle _Bombarda_ device on a knut from one hundred meters. We thank you for your service, madame, and France herself thanks you.”

 _“Je vous remercie du fond du cœur pour cet honneur, Madame la Présidente,”_ Adélaïde murmured, so overwhelmed that her English fled. Madame Lefèvre was the first female in the history of Magical France to be elected president, and the implications that a woman was bestowing their country’s highest honor upon her was not lost on the witch. 

_Minister for Magie,_ Gabriel Muller, took the podium next. He awarded Josy the _Uerder vun der Melusine, éischt klass,_ and praised her actions as well. 

“Luxembourg may be one of the smallest sovereign states in all of Europe, but no one can deny our heart or our strength of purpose. As the Muggles say, _Mir wëlle bleiwe wat mir sinn._ Madam Krier has demonstrated exactly what it means to be a Luxembourger. Her contributions to the Muggle war effort resulted in several key victories, and her determination in the face of incomprehensible danger saved countless lives. 

“Madam Krier was directly responsible for saving the lives of numerous Muggle children who had been incarcerated at Hinzert. She enchanted long ropes into portkeys and smuggled them out of the concentration camp, providing escape for the children from the horrific conditions therein. Madam Krier also coordinated with the Luxembourg government-in-exile to house the children in secret-kept safe homes until their families could be found, or until they were able to be adopted. 

“There is a generation of Luxembourgians who owe her their lives, and none have forgotten her acts of valor. I myself owe her my life. Madame Krier, _thank you_ for saving my mother from Hinzert. Without you, I would not be here today. On behalf of Luxembourg, and on behalf of my mother, and my children, it is my pleasure to present you the Order of Melusine, first class.”

“Thank you, Minister Muller,” Josy said softly, accepting the medal. She looked out at her family, and at the people surrounding them. Josy had kept up with many of the children she’d rescued, and was astonished to see many of them in the crowd. “It was my pleasure, sir.”

Once the applause for Josy had quieted, _Minister Magii_ Szymon Kowalczyk presented Weronika with the _Order Wojenny Virtuti Magicis,_ the highest honor Poland had to offer its magical citizens. He spoke eloquently of her many triumphs, but it was the last part of his speech that amazed the crowd. 

“I would be remiss if I failed to mention _Pani_ Wronski’s greatest achievement. For those of you who do not know, the 46⅜ Regiment of Witches, although separate from the Soviet Armed Forces, still worked closely with the 46th Guards Night Bomber Aviation Regiment. 

“During one of their shared missions, a Muggle pilot’s aeroplane stalled. This pilot left the relative safety of the plane’s shaft-hole—the tiny room where the pilot sits to steer the aeroplane—and climbed out onto the wing to restart the engine. Even though many of the Muggle pilots had done this numerous times before, this time, the pilot slipped and fell off the wing of the aeroplane and was plummeting to her death. 

_“Pani_ Wronski immediately pointed her broom directly towards the ground and raced after her at full speed. She managed to catch the pilot, bring her to safety on the broom, pull up out of the dive just two meters from the ground, and also successfully launch the Muggle _Bombarda Maxima_ she’d been carrying, perfectly hitting her target. 

“The world may know about the famous Quidditch feint named for her son, but _Pani_ Wronski is the one who first taught it to Josef. Classified as a Dangerous Seeker Diversion, it was first used by a Chaser to save a life. _Pani_ Wronski’s name should be just as well known as her son’s.”

Weronika blushed madly as the crowd cheered, and stepped up to the podium. “I thank you, Minister Kowalczyk, for your kind words. They mean more to me than I can express.” She accepted the medal, then added, “I feel I should mention that the tiny room in an aeroplane is actually called a ‘cockpit’, not a ‘shaft-hole’.” 

“Are you sure?” asked the Minister. “That seems… rather vulgar.”

“Quite sure,” she replied, struggling not to laugh. She returned to her seat, refusing to look at the other women. Hearing their snickering made it hard enough to keep a straight face; she knew she’d lose control if she could see their expressions. 

_Ministŭr na Magiyata,_ Grozdan Naydenova, took the stage next. Ekaterina rose to join him, and he gently placed a heavy sash over her shoulders. The stunned witch could only stare at the medal attached to the fine fabric—the first degree, first class Bulgarian award for bravery had only been given out three times before in the history of Magical Bulgaria. 

“Not only was _Gospozha_ Vulchanova one the finest Beaters in Bulgaria’s history, she also managed to use those skills during the Muggle war. _Gospozha_ Vulchanova successfully took out the Muggle military police on one of the transport ships as it left Lom. This ship was carrying both Jewish and Romani prisoners, and was headed for the camp at Treblinka. Using nothing more than her beater’s bat, she quickly dispatched the Nazis on the ship to the depths of the Danube, saving every prisoner onboard. _Gospozha_ Vulchanova then took them to the Balkan Mountains, where she warded a large area to keep them safe from the army. It is time that Bulgaria knows her name for her heroics during the Muggle war, as well as for her skill on the Quidditch pitch.

“It is my honor to present to you the _Orden na Magiyata “Za Hrabrost” pŭrva stepen pŭrvi klas, Gospozha_ Vulchanova. Bulgaria is forever in your debt.”

Ekaterina was stunned. None of the Quidditch Witches had joined the 46⅜ for recognition or thanks. They had seen a need, realised they could fill it, and did so. The only thought behind their plans was help other people where they could, and to hopefully get back to Quidditch as soon as possible. Her actions during the Muggle war, _all_ of their actions during the war, were simply a part of the past. To be so honored now seemed almost disingenuous to her; the _real_ heroes—as far as Kat was concerned—were the Muggle women they’d fought alongside. She managed to thank her Minister for the honor, and made her way back to her seat without incident. Irina, seeing how affected _Ministŭr_ Naydenova’s words had made her friend, gave Ekaterina a tight hug, before being called to the podium herself. 

_Predsedatel' Magicheskogo Pravitel'stva,_ Aleksandr Turgenev, was the last minister to speak. After presenting Irina with the _Geroy Volshebnoy Rossii_ medal, he turned to face the crowd. 

_“Gospozha_ Karbut prevented the starvation of many Russian citizens during the Second Muggle World War. The Hunger Plan, developed by an inordinately evil man, was designed to seize food from the Soviet Union and give it to German soldiers and civilians. This was just another form of genocide perpetrated by the Nazis. 

_“Gospozha_ Karbut managed to save many lives by enchanting the food storage areas of different cities and towns in Russian ghettos, as well as casting long-lasting altered _Gemino_ charms on staples such as eggs, butter, milk, meat, and fruit—all of which had become illegal for Jews to purchase. As long as one piece of food remained in the charmed container, _Gospozha_ Karbut’s spellwork ensured that it would once again be full the next time it would be opened. 

“The Hunger Plan had a devastating effect on the citizens of Russia. It is estimated that 4.2 million Russians were starved to death between 1941 and 1944. However, due to many factors, not the least of which was _Gospozha_ Karbut’s contributions, the death toll never reached the expected 20-30 million souls.

“It is time _Gospozha_ Karbut is honored for her part in saving the lives of Soviet Citizens. We honor you today, _Gospozha,_ and name you a Hero of Magical Russia. You have the thanks of a grateful nation.”

Irina gratefully shook the Minister’s hand, then returned to her seat with the other women. They gushed over her medal, just as she had over theirs, then the women returned their attention to the podium when Minerva took her place behind it once more. 

“I would be remiss if I failed to mention the brave Muggle heroes who inspired the 46⅜ Regiment of Witches. In total, 261 women served in the 46th Guards Night Bomber Aviation Regiment. Thirty-two of these women were killed during the war—some from combat, some from aeroplane crashes, and some from tuberculosis. Twenty-three Night Witches were awarded the title Hero of the Soviet Union, two were named Heroes of the Russian Federation, and one became a Hero of Kazakhstan. 

“Throughout the course of the war, the 46th regiment accumulated approximately 23,672 sorties in combat, and it is estimated that they collectively flew for 28,676 flight hours. The Nachthexen dropped over 3,000 tons of bombs and over 26,000 incendiary shells, damaging or completely destroying 17 river crossings, nine railways, two railway stations, 26 warehouses, 12 fuel depots, 176 armored cars, 86 firing points, and 11 searchlights. In addition to these bombings, the unit performed 155 supply drops of food and ammunition to Soviet forces.

“It is said that the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. Having just come through a war ourselves, I am certain you all understand the bonds that are formed in battle. It is for this reason that, with the permission of several magical governments, as well as the International Confederation of Wizards, several of the surviving Muggle Night Witches were invited here today. 

“Vladimir Putin, the current Muggle president of the Russian Federation, has decreed that the women of the 46⅜ Regiment of Witches deserve to be recogniszed as Heroes of the Russian Federation. I could think of no better people to present these awards than the women who fought alongside our very own heroes. Please join me in welcoming Rufina Gasheva, Polina Gelman, Natalya Kravtsova, Yevdokiya Pasko, Nadezhda Popova, and Nina Raspopova, Heroes of the Soviet Union, members of the 46th Guards Night Bomber Aviation Regiment, Night Witches.”

The crowd erupted in cheers as everyone in attendance leapt to their feet in applause. Six elderly women walked out of the room next to the High Table, and soon, all twelve women—reunited for the first time in decades—were in tears. Irina immediately began translating for the emotional Muggle women, then looked at Adélaïde in thanks when she cast a translation charm over them all. 

“This would have been helpful sixty years ago,” Ekaterina laughed. 

“It wasn’t invented then,” Adélaïde shrugged. “I was still working on it, and then we were fighting.”

 _“You_ invented—” Rolanda’s exclamation was cut off when the Headmistress cleared her throat. Smiling sheepishly at her long-time friend, she walked back up to the podium. 

“I would just like to say, for all of us, really, that we are gratified beyond words. For most of us, we went into the Muggle war because it had taken our one true love away from us: Quidditch. We quickly learned that sports have no place in our hearts and minds when innocent people are literally dying by the millions. If we were able to prevent even one death, then the risks we took were worth it. Thank you all, so very much.” It was clear that Rolanda was having trouble keeping herself together at this point, and many of her former students were crying themselves as they watched their normally indomitable Flying Instructor fighting tears. 

Nadezhda Popova broke away from the group to join Rolanda at the podium. She wrapped her arm around the witch, and—with the help of the translation charm that was still in place—said, “This Quidditch is still very important. I, for one, would like to finally see it played. After all, I understand there is a play named for when Nika saved me. I can still fly an aeroplane; are you too old to fly a broom?”

Rolanda stared at Nadezhda in shock, then narrowed her eyes at the smirking woman. It wasn’t until she heard Oliver Wood’s whoop of glee in the audience that she registered the crowd’s laughter. 

“Wood!” Rolanda barked out over the uproar. “Gather two teams and meet me at the pitch. The girls want a game—let’s give them one!”

* * *

**_Bulgarian_ **

_Ebasi! — Fuck!_

_Da — Yes_

_Ministŭr na Magiyata — Minister of Magic_

_Orden na Magiyata “Za Hrabrost” pŭrva stepen pŭrvi klas — Order of Magic “For Bravery” first degree first class_

_Gospozha — Madam_

**_Russian_ **

_A huy li? Mne vse ravno, chto oni govoryat! — Why the fuck not? I don’t care what they say!_

_Da — Yes_

_Duraki — Assholes/Fools_

_Nyet — No_

_Predsedatel' Magicheskogo Pravitel'stva — Chairman of the Magical Government_

_Geroy Volshebnoy Rossii — Hero of Magical Russia_

_Gospozha — Madam_

**_French_ **

_Ma caneton — My duckling (a term of endearment)_

_Ta gueule! [I am a] citoyenne de la France Libre! Les putains de nazis, je leur pisse dessus! — Shut up! I am a citizen of Free France! I piss on those fucking Nazis!_

_Père — father_

_Maman — mother_

_magnifique — magnificent_

_Allons-y! — Let’s go!_

_Présidente du monde Magique de France — President of Magical France_

_L’ordre de l’enchanteresse, première classe — The Order of the Enchantress, first class_

_Je vous remercie du fond du cœur pour cet honneur, Madame la Présidente. — I thank you from the bottom of my heart for this honor, Madam President._

**_Luxembourgish_ **

_lieweg mat roserei — livid with rage_

_Minister fir Magie — Minister of Magic_

_Uerder vun der Melusine, éischt klass — Order of Melusine, first class_

_Mir wëlle bleiwe wat mir sinn — We want to stay what we are (National Motto of Luxembourg)_

**_Polish_ **

_Minister Magii — Minister of Magic_

_Order Wojenny Virtuti Magicis — War Order of Magical Valor_

_Pani — Madam_


End file.
